My Favorite Things
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: What are Tim's favorite things? Oneshot. Another idea that popped into my head insisting that it needed to be written down.


**A/N**: I've hit a slight writer's block on my other stories and this idea popped up in their place. After reading some profiles of McGee that had a space for his most valued possession, I started to think about what he might say. It's also a variation on the question: If your house was on fire and you could save five things what would they be? This is obviously just my opinion, but it is based on what I've seen in the various episodes. So here you go!

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Tim stared at the items arrayed before him. It had seemed like a simple assignment at the time: Choose the five possessions that mean the most to you and that represent your perception of yourself. However, he had come home and looked around his apartment, packed with what he considered the vital components of his life, and wondered how he could choose just five things. It had taken him more than an hour to decide. Well, it wasn't like he could be graded on the quality of his choice. It was his life. No one else could choose for him. He smiled wryly. Abby would have liked to try. He looked at them once more, and finally satisfied, wrote out the required list and explanations for his choices.

_1. Laptop computer: With the possible exception of Agent Gibbs, everyone has ties to their computers. In this technological world, we need the computers to communicate, to write, to think, to be entertained. I am no exception. Much of my world exists in digital form and without my computer I would feel as though I were missing an appendage._

_2. Remington typewriter: That this item and the one above are right next to each __other might seem strange, but as much as I depend on modern technology in all its forms, my best creative thinking is done by creating an atmosphere of a bygone era. I love the feeling of the pushing the keys, the sound as I reach the end of a line, the satisfaction of having created something worthwhile._

_3. NCIS badge: A physical representation of my attainment of the position of field agent. I still like saying it, even after three years: I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee._

_4. Family photo: Sure there aren't many of us, but we're all McGees, and that's what matters._

Tim paused. Even though he was all alone in his apartment, he blushed as he looked at his last possession. No one would see this. That cooperation expert or whatever she was had promised that this was just something to force us to look at ourselves. He had to be honest about it. He took the last photo and slipped back into its hiding place in his wallet. Again, even though he was alone, he cleared his throat and resumed writing about his last cherished possession.

_5. Photo of Abby: What can I say? She's Abby. She's the strangest, kindest, most wonderful woman I've known. I know it sounds silly, but it's true. No one would have expected that we'd hit it off. I certainly didn't. We're not dating anymore, but she's still who I think of when I think of who I... We're friends now, and although I occasionally might wish for more, I wouldn't give up the relationship we have (and the one we had) for anything in the world._

As he put away the various objects, he found it ironic that, of the five, four were with him almost constantly. Only the typewriter stayed in the apartment. Maybe he should have put his book or his phone or his car on the list. No. They were just things. He could have done without them and probably have been just as happy. He loved the success he was currently enjoying, but it didn't define him like these items did. He slid the family photo back into his wallet, prominently displayed, unlike the photo he had of Abby. She didn't even know he had it. He had taken it once when they were alone in the lab and she had been distracted by something on the computer. Somehow, he had managed to capture her in motion, pigtails flying, hands in motion. He smiled. It _was_ Abby. He put his badge on the counter where he could pick up on the way out in the morning. The typewriter went back on the desk and the laptop in its case.

So, that was what defined Timothy McGee: a computer, a typewriter, a badge, and two photos. It didn't take much, he thought, chuckling softly as he turned out the lights.


End file.
